


Recognition

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Regis sees how much Ignis does, and he’s thankful.





	Recognition

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “This fandom needs more Papa Regis. Especially Papa Regis looking after Ignis. Nothing makes you the ultimate Dad like being a Dad to a kid who's not even yours. Please merciful author anons. Hit me with some fluffy Regis taking care of Ignis. I'd love to see Regis realizing how overworked Ignis is. It looks like the guy does about 6 different full-time jobs and he seems really put upon in his Brotherhood episode. Kinda sad too. +1 If he gets mad at Noct for treating Ignis like a common servant. +10 for apologies +100000 for Regis hugging Iggy!” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7514158#cmt7514158).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Dinner passes with little conversation, Regis’ mind still on the evening’s report and Noctis mostly looking at his phone. He’s old enough now that his father’s scolding seems to do little to discourage him, and it’s hard enough for Regis to get him to come to the palace for dinner at all, much less an actively _engaged_ one. Noctis pushes the food around his plate with his other hand, occasionally lifting small morsels to his mouth. It’s a frustrating thing to watch, but so is most of fatherhood.

Regis is more than finished with the tired affair by the time servants come to collect his plate. He has no wish to stay for dessert, especially if Noctis is going to continue being such sad company. But before he can push out of his chair, a familiar face slips through the door at the end of their long dining room. Ignis strides forward with a tray in hand, loaded up with yellow pastries. He comes to set it down in the center of the table. Regis politely shakes his head as Ignis moves to serve him one, and instead, Ignis slips one onto a plate that he brings within Noctis’ easy reach.

Apparently, this little ritual has been going on for some time, but Regis has only just learned of it. The gossip came to him through the palace staff rather than Noctis himself, but that’s hardly surprising. As Noctis lazily reaches for his dessert, Regis asks Ignis, “Is this the elusive Tenebrae treat?”

Ignis answers, “I hope so, Your Majesty.” He’s grown tall over the years, but his face is still soft with youth, his expression carefully neutral as he awaits the verdict. Noctis bites in without offering Ignis so much as a ‘thank you.’

He chews, then mutters, “Still wrong,” and returns his attention to his phone.

Regis’ chest palpably tightens. Ignis has no reaction, though his eyes are a smidgen downcast beneath the veil of his glasses. His forehead appears ever so slightly damp beneath his brown bangs, his straight posture just a _tad_ less impeccable than usual. Regis would guess that he spent considerable time down in the kitchens, slaving away over this secret recipe, trying so very hard to please a sullen teenager who gives him nothing in return. Ignis nods his head and turns to leave.

Before he can, Regis coldly snaps, “Noctis.”

Noctis doesn’t even look up, just counters, “What?”

“Show Ignis some gratitude.” That finally draws Noctis’ gaze. Ignis’ eyes carefully divert towards the floor, his shoulders visibly stiff, but Regis presses on: “These things are a kindness, something he _chooses_ to go above and beyond his duties for in order to provide for you. They’re hardly his job, and goodness knows he does enough jobs already.”

Noctis’ face twists. He mutters defensively, “He likes doing that stuff.”

In a way, Ignis likely does—he’s a naturally hard worker, naturally attentive to his prince, but that isn’t what they’re discussing, and Regis doesn’t give Ignis a chance to agree and allow his own mistreatment. Regis levels a hard look at his son, voice dropping dangerously low, and he says in no uncertain terms, “I suffer you giving so little thought to our servants, but you _will_ show Ignis more respect. Now, apologize for your terse behaviour.”

Noctis meets him with a glare. For a moment, they have a stare off: two proud, stubborn men unused to backing down. But Regis has been king far longer than Noctis has borne this entitlement, and eventually, Noctis crumbles. 

He glances bitterly aside and mumbles, “Thanks, Iggy.”

Ignis quietly replies in kind: “Thank you.” He bows his head towards his prince. It seems to be enough for him, but hopefully he knows that Noctis must truly appreciate everything that’s done for him—he’s just a troublesome teenager that isn’t yet good enough at expressing it. Until he learns to show more gratitude, Regis plans to keep a more vigilant eye on his wayward son.

And, just as important, he’ll keep one eye on his son’s loyal advisor. There are few in the capital that work as hard as Ignis does, and none for so few results. Regis watches as Ignis silently slips away, back through the towering dining room and out into the hall. Noctis buries himself in his phone again whilst stuffing his face with the fruits of Ignis’ labour.

Regis has had enough and has no taste for sweets. He takes his leave without a second word to his son, and instead swiftly follows Ignis’ trail. His leg gives him some trouble in the pursuit—he’ll likely need a cane soon, but for the time being, he tries to remain strong in front of Noctis. He slips through the large doors and calls, “Ignis,” to stop Ignis from slipping away at the other end of the corridor.

Ignis halts immediately. He waits as Regis approaches him, then dips his head in greeting and murmurs, “Your Majesty.” 

Regis brushes it off and tells Ignis, as assuredly as he spoke to Noctis, “I wish to thank you again for all that you have done for my family. You bear it well, but I know how overworked you are, and that work has not gone without notice. You have my gratitude, and that of my son—I will endeavor to teach him the proper manner to express it in the future.”

By the end of his little speech, Ignis’ eyes are a little glossier than when the night began. He opens his mouth once, seems to have no words, only to ultimately close it. But his shoulders visibly slump, and it looks to Regis as though a great weight has lifted off of them, merely from acknowledging it. It makes Regis wonder if he could possibly be the only one that sees that burden in Ignis, and how fiercely he carries it. It’s a sad, sobering thought. When Regis introduced Ignis to his only child so long ago, he’d hoped that they could do that for one another—listen to and share one another’s troubles, and that it would make them stronger for it. But perhaps there’s still time for that when Noctis matures. And maybe having someone so mature as Ignis around will speed along the process. Ignis has always been the best of influences.

Ignis finally seems to decide on his reaction. He bends all the way down from the waist and utters, “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The words are stiff, but his voice is thick with emotion.

Regis tells him, “You need not bow and scrape to me.” And when Ignis rises again, Regis reaches out without thinking, pulling Ignis forward into his arms, offering the fatherly embrace that he would give to his own son.

In a way, Ignis is like his second child. And Ignis is tense only for a moment, then, before Regis can pull away, Ignis seems to melt into his arms. 

Ignis’ fingers cling lightly to his clothes. He holds Ignis tenderly, until Ignis is the one to part them, stepping away from the embrace. With flushed cheeks and eyes on the floor, Ignis repeats a breathy, “Thank you.” Then he turns to go, and this time, Regis lets him, secure in the knowledge that he knows he’s loved.


End file.
